Unexpected Circumstances
by elliedelacour
Summary: She couldn't shake the image that seemed burned into her brain. Moonlit eyes, and a hungry, roaming gaze that made her shiver. A half smile and his ruffled blond hair that framed his face like a halo. How could someone so poisonous look so much like an angel? And why had he saved her life? (8th year. Dramione. Forced to work together on a class trip and feelings get complicated :)
1. Bad Days and Broomsticks

**SUMMARY**

 **How exactly do Draco and Hermione feel about each other? After Draco saves Hermione's life on a class trip, things start to get complicated. Will the adventures (and misadventures) they have while being forced to work together change their feelings? Sometimes the best relationships are the ones you never saw coming.**

Some people who didn't actually come back for an 8th year are here, like Ron and Harry! Enjoy!

* * *

The grounds of Hogwarts looked exceptionally stunning this fall. From above, the lake was smooth as glass, reflecting the silvery grey sky. Nearby, the Forbidden Forest was a patchwork of crimson, gold, and deep green leaves.

Unfortunately, Hermione was unable to enjoy the view. She was flying on her broom, too afraid to look down.

Hermione had been thrilled when McGonagall had announced a special trip to Paris for those who had missed seventh year due to "unfortunate circumstances". She was so excited to go and learn, especially since Harry, Ron and Ginny were coming as well.

Hermione watched as Harry, Ron, Ginny and Dean reached the forest at the edge of the lake. They were so far ahead of the rest of the group that they were playing some sort of game, spinning and flipping and dodging between the trees on their brooms.

"Show offs", Hermione muttered, perfectly content to stay at the back of the group with Lavender and Neville, who were almost as bad at flying as she was. Lavender, for her part, seemed to be enjoying it.

"Isn't flying across the lake fun?" Lavender squealed, tilting dangerously on her broom.

 _I'd rather swim across the lake and take my chances with the Giant Squid,_ Hermione thought glumly. She wrapped her hands tighter around the broom and tried not to think about the possibility of falling.

The only people behind them were Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, who were only slow because they had been joking around the entire trip. Hermione turned to watch as Blaise pulled an apple out of his pocket, and lobbed it out over the lake. Draco chased it, pulling into a dive so sharp that it made Hermione's stomach swoop just _watching_ it. He caught the apple just before it hit the water, shooting upwards and letting out out a whoop of triumph, before tossing the apple for Blaise.

Next to Hermione, Lavender sighed. She had been watching Draco as well. "He's pretty good. I wonder if he would teach _me_ how to do that. He might, you know. I reckon he's gotten nicer."

Hermione blinked. Lavender was right in saying that Draco had changed, Hermione thought. Still, she wouldn't be going around asking him for _lessons._ Just because Malfoy no longer went out of his way to be rude, didn't excuse the fact that he was a former (reluctant) Death Eater, nor that he had been rude to her and her friends for the past seven years.

After a few more terrifyingly eventful minutes of flying, in which Lavender sneezed and lost control of her broom, and in which Hermione accidentally sent her broom in a nosedive towards the water, they finally reached the other side of the lake. Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she hovered for a moment, taking in the view. From her height above the treetops she could see the train station, and just beyond that she had a beautiful view of the peaked roofs of Hogsmede. It wouldn't take long to reach the Hogwarts Express, and Hermione was very much looking forward to having her feet planted firmly on the ground. She shivered as a chilly autumn wind gusted past; it was so strong that she had to clutch onto her broom with both hands. Her skinny jeans and thin burgundy sweater did little to keep her warm.

Hermione was too concentrated on staying upright to notice that the gust of wind had caused Neville to completely lose control of his broom. She heard a shout and turned to look just as the tip of his broom slammed against her ribs. She felt herself slipping backwards and struggled to right herself, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the shiny handle. Her stomach dropped as her legs slipped to dangle off the back tail of the broom. The broom tilted even more under her weight as Hermione slid even farther back. She was going to fall. Desperately, she reached her right hand up and managed to close her fist around the tail twigs of the broom. She held on as tightly as she could, her knuckles white, her legs dangling, and her heart beating like thunder in her chest. She was too panicked to even scream. Below her, the ground was very, very far away and the broom twigs were just barely managing to support her. She reached her free hand for her back pocket. If only she could grab her wand she could –

 _CRACK_

The tail twigs snapped. And Hermione was falling. She screamed and flailed her arms, as if doing so could slow her descent. But the ground kept getting closer, closer, closer, and the trees didn't look very welcoming either. She was so close now that she could count out the individual leaves on the oak tree that she was about to splatter onto.

 _Ironic,_ Hermione thought, _that I would survive the War only to be killed by falling off my broom._ She closed her eyes.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around Hermione's middle with such force that it knocked the breath out of her in a sharp gasp. Her eyes flew open. Whoever they were, they were slowing her fall. But, Hermione realized with a jolt, they weren't slowing fast enough. They crashed into the tree canopy a tangle of limbs, the branches breaking painfully under their combined weight. Branches scratched at Hermione's arms and legs as she tumbled through them, until the earth rushed up to greet her and she slammed against the dirt. Hard.

Hermione lay still, her ears ringing and her eyes closed, struggling to process what had just happened. Her entire body ached. Who had saved her? And why was the ground so warm? Blearily, she lifted her head and cracked open her eyes. She wasn't lying on the ground at all.

She was lying on Draco Malfoy.

Hermione sat up with a jolt, still on top of him. He wasn't moving. His eyes were closed. Her heart lurched. Draco looked almost like a fallen angel, so silvery-pale in comparison to the dark earth. She leaned closer to him, her unbound hair falling in a curtain around his face. Was he okay? He didn't always look that pale, did he? She remembered the CPR basics she'd taught herself last summer, when she was on the run with Harry and Ron. Was she supposed to check his heartbeat or his breathing first? Trying to stop herself from panicking, she leaned down and pressed her ear against his chest.

 _Please be okay,_ Hermione thought. _Please, please, please don't let me be the one to have killed you after you came to save me, though I have no idea why you would do that. Please just wake up and be back to your usual annoying, arrogant_ —

"Granger, what the hell are you doing?" snapped a cold voice. Hermione sat back up with surprise. She felt her face going red as she stared down at Draco. His blue eyes were icy when they met her own, so startling in contrast to his pale face.

"Er well… I mean it was… you were on the ground and you weren't moving… I mean, I was just checking if you were all right," she stammered.

"You have a wand, you know, and I would have thought _you_ of all people knew healing spells," Malfoy said, with a crooked smile. "But for some reason you thought the solution was to straddle me and lie on my chest?" Hermione looked down, and realised that she was still sitting with her legs pressed against either side of his hips.

She jumped up, embarrassed. It wasn't the first time she had forgotten about her wand in a panic.

"Must you always be so arrogant! I was just making sure you were okay!" Hermione said angrily, reaching for her wand, "Besides its your fault, you didn't _need_ to come save me in the first place!"

"How could that be my fault?" Malfoy got to his feet and snatched his wand from the ground, "You were the one who was idiotic enough to fall off a stationary broom!"

They were both standing now, their wands out and aimed at each other's chests.

"Why save me in the first place then, if you hold me in such high regard?" Hermione sneered, her voice dripping sarcasm.

"Obviously if I hadn't—"

"That is enough!" barked the stern voice of Professor McGonagall, landing between them. The rest of the class had finally gathered and were hovering above the clearing watching the scene unfold.

"Are you two all right?" she asked her voice soft. Hermione and Draco nodded.

"Well in that case I have half a mind to kick you off the trip for such behaviour!" McGonagall yelled, her nostrils flaring. "However, I will be giving you two one more chance." she paused, and seemed to consider something before continuing. "You two will work together to write me... twenty-four inches of parchment on what you have learned about the wizarding history of France, due at the end of the trip!"

"Twenty-four inches?" Malfoy said incredulously, "And I have to work with _her_? You can't be serious professor!"

"Malfoy is right," Hermione said, "I would much rather write twenty-four inches of parchment by myself than work with _him_."

"I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense!" McGonagall snapped. "If I don't see you two working together and setting aside your differences then you will not be allowed on my trip!"

 **Thank you so much for reading the first chapter. I've already started work on the next chapter! JPlease please please leave me a review I would love to know what you think, or if you have any suggestions or comments! Follow or favourite if you really like it! Thanks – Ellie**


	2. Trains and Tempers

"Its just so unfair!" Hermione grumbled as she slumped in her seat in the compartment. "How is it my fault the little git couldn't hold his temper?"

"Well to be perfectly honest Hermione, it wasn't just him," Ron smirked "I'm pretty sure they could hear you yelling all the way back at Hogwarts."

Harry gave an odd little cough that sounded a lot like a laugh. Hermione turned away to stare out the window, indignant. She loved Harry and Ron, but how could they not be angry with Malfoy for what he had done? She knew Ginny would have been on her side, but unfortunately, the fiery redhead was asleep, curled up with her head resting on Harry's shoulder. Somehow, Hermione didn't think Ginny would appreciate being woken up over Draco Malfoy. Still, Hermione couldn't decide whether she wanted to thank Draco or punch him in the jaw.

Hermione pressed her nose against the glass window; the train rushed past rolling green pastures and silver streams, heading deeper into the forest. The route to Paris was absolutely stunning, Hermione thought. But the beauty of the nature outside did nothing to lighten her mood.

She remembered the way her heart had lunched when she'd seen Draco unmoving on the ground below her. Why had she even cared if he was okay? He was Draco Malfoy, the prince of Slytherin, and she was a muggleborn Gryffindor who had fought against him in the War. And she had been _straddling_ him! Her cheeks burned at the memory, her jeans rough pressed against his own, the feel of the warm denim shifting underneath her when he woke –

 _Stop it!_ Hermione chided herself. _He may be easy on the eyes, but whenever he opens his mouth it's nothing but arrogance and snark. Not to mention that he was a Death Eater!_

"Why do you think he did it? Saved me I mean," Hermione asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Why does Malfoy do anything?" Ron shrugged, "My guess is cause he's a Slytherin. They only do things when it's in their own best interest. Maybe he thought if you got injured they would cancel the trip."

Harry shook his head. "If he didn't want to be on the trip, he wouldn't have signed up for it. Maybe he saved you because he was scared he'd get in trouble if he didn't. A lot of people still don't trust him, you know, since he was on Voldemort's side in the war."

Hermione nodded. Malfoy had fought against them in the Battle of Hogwarts, but McGonagall had forgiven him. Deep down, Hermione knew it wasn't entirely his fault that he had been on the Death Eater's side, but she still found it hard to forgive. She wondered, if she had been in his position, would she have done the same thing?

She didn't think Harry was completely right about the whole getting-in-trouble thing, but she had no ideas of her own. "Let's just forget all about this while we still can. Soon I'll have to partner with him for everything, or McGonagall will have a fit."

Harry suggested a game of exploding snap and soon the trio were laughing and together, the events of earlier almost forgotten.

* * *

In his compartment, Draco fumed. Why was Hermione so infuriating? After saving her from falling, he had expected sincere thanks at the very least. Instead he had woken up to her lying on his chest. He remembered her embarrassed look when he woke up; how her cheeks turned bright pink and her concerned eyes stared into his own. But that didn't last long. Before he knew it she was up and yelling at him, and he was arguing right back.

Any other girl would have swooned at the mere thought of Draco Malfoy saving them. The fact that Hermione didn't bothered him. Draco smiled as he thought of the one upside to being forced to work with Potter's goody-two shoes friend: he would have plenty of time to get his revenge.

There was a loud knock on the compartment door, and Draco turned to see Pansy striding into the compartment. She was wearing a short dress that was definitely not appropriate for the fall weather. Draco wondered how she had managed to fly on her broom without flashing her knickers to the entire class.

"Hey Draco" she simpered, sitting down and sliding close to him, "I was looking for you _everywhere_. What are you doing here all alone?"

"Just thinking" Draco said, as he slid closer to the wall of the train. Pansy and him had been together in their 6th year, mostly out of pressure from his father. He'd made it clear that he had no feelings for her, but she'd never quite gotten over him. He hadn't wanted to be with someone who, he knew, only liked him for his riches and his looks.

"You seem stressed Draco," Pansy purred, running a finger down his arm. "Did you injure yourself catching Granger? Why would you even put in the effort to save her?" she paused, pouting, "Do you like her?"

"Of course not!" Draco burst out, angry at her accusation. He knew the real reason he'd saved Granger. When he woke up, with her on top of him, her legs squeezing his hips, his head pounding and his body aching, he had wondered why he had gone through so much trouble. It would have been so much easier to let her fall. So why had he saved her? It wasn't because he liked her, no. After considering it for a moment he had realized that saving her had simply been a way to repay his guilt. He remembered how in the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had turned back on their brooms to save him from the Fiendfire in the Room of Requirement. It made sense to save her. But, he didn't think Pansy understood what remorse meant.

"I only saved her because... Because if she had gotten killed or injured the trip might have been cancelled!"

Pansy's seemed satisfied with his response and slid even closer to Draco. "You're such an amazing flyer," she purred, leaning closer and running a hand down his arm, "I could come to your room in the hotel, and maybe you could give me a private less-"

Pansy's advances were interrupted by a knock. Both turned as Hermione opened the door to the compartment.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy spat, "Can't you see we're busy?"

Hermione's eyes flicked to Draco, who was pressed against the wall of the compartment. Her eyes lit up with quiet amusement as she beheld his predicament.

"McGonagall sent me to get you, Malfoy," she said, looking like she was trying very hard not to laugh, "She wants to talk to us about the essay."

Draco stood, not sure what to feel about the interruption. The relief he felt at Pansy being interrupted was tempered by the fact that it was interrupted by the one person he didn't want to see. And the fact that Hermione looked amused at the fact that he was being annoyed by Pansy made it all the worse.

Draco fumed as they walked down the corridor. He picked angrily at his black shirt, which had gotten stained after he had fallen.

"So sorry to intrude on such a _precious_ moment in the compartment," Hermione said, her voice saccharine-sweet. She gave him a smile that suggested she knew that the moment wasn't precious at all.

Two could play at this game, Draco fumed. He wasn't going to let her keep the upper hand. They were almost at McGonagall's compartment when he reached out and grabbed her wrist, spinning her so that they were facing each other in the narrow corridor. Her back was against the wall, and he was only a few inches away from her, close enough that he could hear her ragged breathing, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her light brown eyes as he stared down at her.

"It was a precious moment wasn't it?" he smirked, releasing his hold on her wrist, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

Hermione didn't even blush at his words, much to Draco's annoyance. Instead, she pulled herself up to her full height and stood on her toes so they were almost level with each other. She was dizzyingly close to him now, so close, in fact, that he could count the faded constellation freckles that were splattered across the bridge of her nose.

"You wish, Malfoy" Hermione snapped, crossing her arms. "I think you should be thanking me. Was that relief I sensed at my interruption?"

"Now you're the one wishing, Granger" Draco snarled. She was positively insufferable. How was he supposed to survive the trip if he was stuck with _her_?

 **I know this one is a bit slower, but the next chapter is gonna be more exciting I swear ;) it's gonna be out real soon, so follow if you wanna keep up with the story. Favourite if you really like it!**

Also please please please **REVIEW** it really makes my day, and I love reading your opinions/advice/feedback/ideas/whatevers J So, leave a review! A big thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! Also if you can think of a better title for this chapter than **_Trains and Tempers_** , let me know, cause I'm not too happy with the title :P


	3. Twisted Games

**THIS IS A RE-UPLOAD CAUSE I REALLY DIDNT LIKE HOW PARTS OF THE CHAPTER WERE WRITTEN BEFORE. IF YOUVE ALREADY READ IT YOU DONT HAVE TO READ IT AGAIN AS THERE ARE NO MAJOR PLOT CHANGES. The next chapter is coming either tomorrow or the day after :)**

The train ride had been tedious; Hermione and Malfoy had spent an entire _hour_ in McGonagall's compartment. Hermione swore that if she that if she had to hear another I-would-have-expected-better-from-both-of-you lecture, she would hex Malfoy into the next century.

The first thing Hermione had done after arriving at the wizarding hotel was step into the bathroom of her suite and run a bath. She'd read somewhere that hot baths were supposed to be very relaxing. Perhaps it would help her calm down over the whole Malfoy dilemma.

She remembered the way Draco had confronted her on the train, his hand wrapped around her wrist, ruffled blond hair falling into eyes that flashed silver as he smirked at her. And then he'd had the nerve to insinuate that she was jealous of him and Pansy! As if she'd _ever_ have feelings for the ferret-boy. He was positively insufferable.

After a good half hour of soaking in the hot water, the worries and stresses of the day melted away. There was something special about wizarding baths, Hermione decided. She would never get tired of the multitude of tiny taps that jutted along the side of the tub, each one releasing a different type of soap or bubble. She stared, transfixed, as one tap released a cloud of golden bubbles that skipped across the bathwater like dragonflies. They popped into sparkling dust that smelled like amber and jasmine.

Eventually, Hermione's fingers and toes became pink and pruney. She stepped out of the tub, her wet hair dripping around her shoulders, sending droplets of water spattering onto the marble floor. She tucked a fluffy bath towel around her slim frame, and wrung out her hair so it wasn't quite so sopping.

Hermione padded out of her bathroom and down the little hallway to her room, passing a door that she had tried to open when she first walked into her hotel suite. It had been locked. She'd realized, (after five minutes of trying to unlock it,) that it probably led to another hotel room, and was only used when people booked a double suite.

Unlike in Muggle hotels, each room in the hotel was charmed to match the individual's tastes and needs. Hermione's hotel bedroom featured a handsome four poster made of dark wood, separated from the rest of the room by gauzy white curtains hanging from the bedframe. The bed was topped with puffy white pillows and a snuggly white duvet; the kind that was perfect to wrap yourself in on a rainy day or cold night.

The far wall was graced with two delicately arched windows, and through the panes of glass, Hermione could see the midnight blue night sky above, and the golden lights of Paris sparking below. Between the windows, a narrow door led to an even narrower balcony that jutted out over the cobbled street.

Hermione made her way to the side of her bed, and rummaged around in her suitcase, looking for her favourite pair of pyjamas. Cozy, and warm, the pyjamas had been a Christmas gift from her mother. Not to mention, the red flannel was patterned with little cartoon dogs on skis. As dorky as they were, Hermione had to admit that they never failed to make her smile.

She had just untucked her bath towel to change, when a sudden sound made her turn. She saw the door that connected her room to the ensuite hotel room open. She had just enough time to clutch her towel to her chest when someone walked into the room.

She saw him a split second before he saw her. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a black cotton shirt, his hair unbrushed, his expression unguarded. Then amber eyes met silver, and Draco Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise.

Malfoy eyed the towel that Hermione clutched to her front. His eyes ran her up and down, from her bare legs, to the small towel, to her damp hair that spilled around her shoulders. The look of shock that had graced his face earlier was gone, replaced with something very, very different.

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest. She was too shocked to say anything. Why wasn't he leaving? She took a step back. Malfoy stepped closer. She stepped back again, and felt her bare back press against the wall. Malfoy walked forward so that he was only a foot or two away from her. _Gotcha_ his eyes seemed to say.

"Did I come at a bad time?" He smirked, and his tone was amused. But there was something tantalizingly dangerous in his eyes.

The rational part of Hermione knew that he was purposely trying to make her feel uncomfortable, probably trying to get back at her for embarrassing him with Pansy on the train. But then why did this feel so _real_?

"Get out of my room Malfoy," she said, trying to seem threatening. But her voice wavered. It was a lot harder to seem threatening, Hermione realized, when you were wearing a small towel and not clothes.

He smirked and stepped even closer. They weren't touching, but they were so close that she could feel heat radiating off his body.

"Not so threatening now, are we?" He said, leaning one forearm against the wall beside her head. Hermione had to crane her neck to look at him.

This was a different Draco than the one Hermione knew during the daytime. The Draco she knew was usually the absolute picture of refinement; his hair combed, his emotions contained, his words scathing. But now, now, he was different. This Draco had hair that curled around his temples and fell around his face like a halo. Hungry, sad, haunted eyes that pierced her own, and roamed without asking for permission.

Hermione gulped, clutching the towel tighter to her chest, half-hoping that the towel was bigger, half-wondering if it could be smaller. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she didn't know whether to run or step closer. _He's just playing with you_ a voice in her head warned. _This is the same boy who teased you mercilessly for years, the Slytherin boy who is cunning and ruthless and is just using this moment to get the upper hand._

But then he met her eyes again, and the warning voice in her head dwindled away as though it had never existed. He was watching her. Watching her like a wolf watches its prey. Hungrily, possessively, lazily. Trapped under his moonlight gaze, a shiver trailed softly down her spine. They were even closer now, his face was inches from hers, she could smell the scent of pine, and beneath that, something decidedly, well, _male,_ and something distinctively Draco _._ He smirked, a small half smile meant only for her, and Hermione let out a small, shuddering breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Draco murmured something then, almost a groan, so quiet that Hermione could barely catch it.

"What was that?" she asked, her words cut through the silence like a knife.

Draco blinked and leaned away from her, almost as though he was startled. For a second, he said nothing, his face unreadable. Then, he began to laugh. It was a cruel, hollow sound, a sound that shot tendrils of dread through Hermione like ice.

He leaned close to her again, his breath hot on her ear.

"Pathetic" he hissed, his voice like poison, "I said, you are pathetic, Hermione Granger."

Hermione's face burned at his words. She drew herself up to her full height, and pressed her towel tighter against her. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, but she held them in. When she spoke, her tone was as venomous and hollow as his.

"Get out."

Malfoy left, but not before shooting her one last mocking smile. Hermione locked the door behind him. She checked it again to ensure that it was locked. She went to her bed and changed into her pyjamas. She walked to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She walked back to her bedroom, got into bed, and pulled the covers all the way up to her chin.

Only then, curled up under her duvet, did she allow herself to feel. An angry tear ran down her cheek.

Hermione knew that he hadn't meant to walk into her room; after all, she'd forgotten to lock the door. But Malfoy was nothing if not cunning, and he'd used her embarrassment to gain the upper hand in whatever twisted game they were playing.

 _Stupid Malfoy. Stupid Malfoy with his stupid games,_ she thought, as another stubborn tear spilled out. Her face still burned with embarrassment. Malfoy had seen her in nothing but a towel. He'd devoured her with his moonlit eyes and smiled at her like he knew her secrets and owned her mind. And she'd let him.

She'd let him and he'd mocked her for it, his scathing, cold demeanour retuning the second she'd let her guard down. He'd mocked her because he could. Because he was cruel, and a Malfoy, and the prince of Slytherin. And she was nothing but a mudblood.

 _A mudblood with a lion's heart._

Curled under the covers, Hermione allowed herself a small smile, grim determination sinking into her bones. _Bring it on, Malfoy. If you can play dirty than so can I._

Still, she couldn't shake the image that seemed burned into her brain. The way he'd looked. The way he'd looked at her. A half smile, and haunted eyes like silver moonlight, hungry as a wolf. His ruffled hair had fallen around his face like a halo.

 **Thanks for reading and for your reviews! I love reading them!** **Next chapter coming soon so follow if you wanna keep posted! Hope you liked it, leave a review if you have any criticism or comments; let me know! Favourite if you really liked it :)**

 **xx Ellie**


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